We Are
by Ivyshadow
Summary: How are different people affected by the Games? A collection.
1. Careers

**New collection of The Hunger Games drabbles titled "We Are." Each drabble will explore the thoughts of various groups of people involved with the Games.**

**Title: Careers**

**Word Count: 373**

_**x x x x x x x x x x**_

"Yes! Fresh meat!"

"Look at that one–"

"Good luck."

"–Won't last a week."

"Have fun, kiddies!"

Shouts and side comments greet the large group of eleven year olds huddled together by the gate. An adult and a teenager scan the group. They look skeptical.

"Alright, welcome to boot camp!"

The adult steps toward the kids. Half of them cower. The other half start shaking, eyes wide, staring at the man's shoulder, exposed by his sleeveless shirt. Their eyes flit to the teenager's leg, then up to her face. Slowly, the children meet their supervisors' eyes. The children do not understand the shiny white stripes of flesh on the bodies of the grown ups.

The man clears his throat before looking at his companion.

The girl says, "One day, you could be fighting for this District. You will be honored and respected by everyone. But you are not ready. We're here to fix that."

_**x x x x x x x x x x**_

"I'm sorry, but you did not pass. You will not receive further training."

The child looks up with disappointed eyes. Shame. Dishonor. A failure to the district. All these emotions have been pounded into the child from day one.

"Your family will be contacted tonight. They will pick you up in the morning. You may go. Call in the next person."

The child's feet drag to the door. One last sad look back toward the other door. The door where those who pass go. The failures have to go back through the waiting area.

The next child, taller, broader, stronger, faster, waits to be called, then rushes through the door. Surely, they will pass. They will not fail. Honored, respected, idolized even.

The child walks back to the sleeping cabins, head hanging. _Failure_. The word echoes in the child's mind.

_**x x x x x x x x x x**_

"You have all been chosen. You have shown the most potential. You are the strongest, the fastest, the most clever… the best. Will you bring victory to this district?"

"We will!"

"Who are you?"

"Future tributes of our district!"

"What will you do?"

"Fight for our district!"

"What will you do?"

"Destroy the enemies!"

"_What_ will you do?"

"Win!"

With that, the group of teenagers marched into the city square in straight, orderly lines. It was time for the reaping.


	2. Bloodbath Victims

**Title: Bloodbath Victims**

**Word Count: 618**

_**x x x x x x x x x x**_

_Thirty seconds._

I stand on the platform, hanks shaking, heart pounding, mind racing. _Have to run. Have to run. Have to run. _If I stay, I know I'll die. But if I leave without food, I know I'll die. It's a dangerous predicament.

Stay and risk being killed, or leave and risk starving to death? Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. Kill to eat? Maybe. Would I? Will I have to decide? I have other things to decide right now. _Stay, leave… Stay, leave…_

_Ten seconds._

I need to decide _now_. Being killed by a fellow tribute would be a quicker death than starving over a few days. Less painful, too. So this is it, then. How would I rather die? I know I have no chance in these Games anyway, but this is no way to think. Unfortunately, I have to think like this.

_Five seconds_.

That's it. I'm going in. I'll take my chances against girls who are faster and more clever and boys who are bigger and stronger. I have to. My feet shift; one slides back. My knees bend, my arms are extended. I can do this.

_One second._

The gong sounds, and I'm off. My eyes zero in on a bag labeled 'apples.' _It's mine. _I know I'll be competing against others for that bag of apples. I know I won't survive without it. Will I kill someone who tries to take it before me? I don't know.

To my right, other tributes, the fastest ones, are picking up things off the ground, then veering off into the rocky terrain surrounding the Cornucopia. On my left, a large boy is running in the same direction as I am. His eyes are fixed on the same bag of apples I'm going for. I have a few steps' lead, but getting out will be a problem.

I veer to the left, cutting him off, and scooping up the bag of apples. Continuing in my straight line path, I see a large rock dead ahead. Adrenaline kicks in and my steps speed up and I feel like I'm flying. I've never run this fast in my life. I almost want to smile. But then I remember I'm running for my life.

I'm almost there when I feel a sharp pain in my back. I stumble, breaking my fall with my hands. I roll several times, the bag of apples discarded behind me. I roll to a stop, landing on my stomach. I push up on my elbows and reach for my back. My hand comes back red and wet.

Another something slams into my back, forcing my face into the dirt. Pain shoots up my spine, and I can't move. Shoving my arm against the ground, I roll onto my back, and more pain radiates through my body. There's something under me, shoving through my chest from the back. I see the boy pick up the bag of apples as my heart beats slow. My eyes widen as the knife protrudes out of my chest.

Would I have killed for that bag of apples? I still don't know. But it doesn't matter anymore, because this boy has answered the question for himself. He _would_ kill to eat. And now…

My vision deteriorates, the edges fade to black. My breaths come out quick and shallow. I feel my life draining. As I lay dying, I decide I would not have killed to eat. That isn't who I am. Who am I? I don't know who I was. But not, I'm just another casualty of the Hunger Games. A weakling who was killed off the first day by the better tributes. A victim of the bloodbath.


	3. Siblings

**The idea for this one started out in poetry form, so I decided to stick with the format. I like the way it turned out. Hope you do too! ~Ivy**

**Title: Siblings**

**Word Count: 273**

_**x x x x x x x x x x**_

The boy who was chosen was second of three

Relying on one, while another relied on he

At merely fourteen, he was the one

Picked from so many to get a job done

His family would cry, his parents would mourn

But the first and the third would feel the pain more

The elder was wise, had been through it herself

While the younger could barely speak for himself

The elder knew fear, she could see in his eyes

For she'd been alone once, no one at her side

She had been through it all, and landed on top

The odds were against her, but she called it luck

The younger didn't understand for he was too small

His name had yet to be put in the ball

He was scared of the tears, but still cried his own

For his brother was leaving from the home

So sad to choose two from one family

The odds were against it, but that hasn't mattered lately

So one goes away, leaving two behind

At home, where everyday they will cry

Teary eyes watched what the odds were against

Expecting each breath to be his last

Then the final day came, and three became two

One and three said, "It won't be the same without you."

The elder cried with her parents, but from her first glance

She knew her brother never stood much of a chance

The younger didn't know what it meant to be dead

But he knew his brother wasn't coming back to them

The family will mourn but there's nothing to do

Except hope number three won't have to go too


End file.
